The Things in the Night
by nelliesbones
Summary: He remembered her words about strength and imperviousness, but he had loved her in a night full of vulnerability and weakness. Spoilerfree, warmhearted and M for a reason
1. The Darkness in the Night

_I'm back. After writing the lovey-dovey happiness of "Becoming One" for three months, I needed a more angsty take on the new canon. This one will be short. Be sure that this is not how I think it will happen on the show. Be sure that they'll end up happy, though._

THE THINGS IN THE NIGHT

I. The Darkness in the Night

Temperance Brennan awoke with a gasp.

She was pregnant... Pregnant... It hadn't been planned; just as little as the night itself had been planned. Her first night in his arms. It had started as comfort, comfort between two people who knew each other so well that the word "friends" paled compared to what they were.

It had started with tears, had ended with tears as well, but in between... in between it had been something and everything.

Brennan wasn't stupid. The moment he had entered her body, even the moment his lips had touched hers again, she had known that something was different. The way they had met, the way they had fit... it had been so much more than every other sexual encounter she had ever experienced. And it had been more than comfort as well.

In the days following that one night, they had caught a killer, had said goodbye to one of their own. They had shared meals, and over countless cups of coffee she had seen the unasked questions in his warm eyes. Over countless bottles of beer she had felt the strong pull towards him.

She had made peace with the truth that she was in love with Booth. It had taken her six years, but, nonetheless, it might have been the easiest part.

She was... who she was. Fear tugged at her heart, reluctant to let go of the last ounce of imperviousness, the one that still stopped her hand before she could touch him. One might think that having crossed the line once, having lost herself in his arms for the first time, might tip the balance once and for all. One might be wrong about that...

Was he still angry? Had he slept with her because her tears had broken his heart – a heart that, still, might have been too fragile to be broken again? Was she strong enough to look into the face of death and choose love nonetheless? Could she ever give herself to him completely and risk that losing him would tear her apart? Could she... not do it? Could she risk losing him without ever having taken the chance?

They had barely slept _that_ night, but in the wee hours of morning he had fallen into a restless slumber, and she had been watching him. His seed had been dripping out of her, a warm reminder of life, a reminder of what they had done, and he had emanated a vulnerability which had matched her own. Making love to her... Brennan had realized that it had left him raw inside, and even though she knew that it hadn't possessed as much as a hunch of wrongness, their lovemaking, she wondered if it had been too early for him. Or under the wrong circumstances.

Somehow, she had always assumed that he would take the lead after it had happened, show her what to do, but he seemed to be waiting. For her? Brennan knew that the last year had taken a toll on him, and seeing a strong and kindhearted man like him stumble had caused an unfamiliar ache in her chest.

Their path had been saturated with pain, some he had inflicted, some she had inflicted, some life itself had thrown their way. She was weary of it. Watching Booth with his perfect girlfriend had been hard, watching one of them die had been harder, and she didn't want that anymore. But... after all those years, she simply didn't know how to stop it. Choosing happiness... it sounds so easy, but how do you do it? Or, more important, what do you do after you have chosen it?

And now everything had changed again. She was pregnant with his child.

Her hand found her belly in astonishment. It was still flat, and if it hadn't been for the two small lines which had appeared on that pregnancy test, she might not believe it herself.

She knew that she had to tell him. But...

How do you tell someone that his life is about to change completely? How to you tell someone that, from now on, one part of him would forever be yours just like one part of you would forever be his?

Brennan knew that there had been a time when Booth had loved her, but she didn't know how much of that love was still alive, how much she herself had crushed to death.

If she had been one to believe in gut feelings, she might have heard that little voice inside of her that was talking about the warm shimmer in his eyes whenever he looked at her, about the desperate way he had buried himself in her body, about the utter protectiveness of his embrace.

It is easy to hope in these magic hours between dusk and dawn, but sometimes the darkness of the night itself creeps up on you. This is where Temperance Brennan found herself, right between hope and darkness, nothing but her own arms wrapped around her body.

Inhaling deeply, she snuggled herself into his shirt, the one she had kept after that night, and even though it could impossibly smell like him anymore, it provided comfort.

Tomorrow... she would tell him tomorrow.

-BONES-

Seeley Booth had dreamed. Literally. His breathing was still ragged, as he thought about one more face twisted in mortal pain. As always, his battered mind sought refuge in the image of his partner. Temperance Brennan. Lying in his arms, her eyes still red from her tears, but a rosy glow covering her cheeks, as he had been moving inside of her. Had moved her.

He knew that he had touched her, had felt it in her silent tears afterwards, had felt it in the desperate way she had whispered his name, had searched his lips over and over again.

It had been everything. Everything he had ever wished for, everything he had ever tried to tell her. It had been a dream come true... only that this dream had been born out of a nightmare. It shouldn't have happened like this. But after he had touched her once, he just had had to envelop her into his arms. And after she had been in his arms, he just had had to pull her a little bit closer and even closer until he had been able to feel her hot breath on his face. And after he had turned his head, his lips had simply touched hers on a will of their own.

Kissing her had felt like drowning in pure sweetness... and his bruised heart had beaten wildly in his chest. No, he didn't regret it. Nonetheless, part of him felt like having taken advantage on her. He remembered her words about strength and imperviousness, but he had loved her in a night full of vulnerability and weakness. It hadn't meant to be like this. It had meant to be about happiness, not about pain.

The day in the elevator had been a turning point, and he knew that, for once, both of them had been moving towards each other. Slowly, but steadily.

Nothing about _that_ night had been slow or steady. It had been desperate, urgent, overwhelming.

Afterwards... he just hadn't known what to say. What to do. So they had gotten up, eventually, had eaten breakfast, caught a killer. Had shared meals and drinks, and even though it was something they had done a million times over during the last years, it felt different now.

Because now he knew. He knew what it was like to be with her, to love her, to touch her. He knew how good it felt, how perfect she was.

But... was she ready? Was _he_ ready to risk his heart again? Had she come to him out of fear or had there been something else? Did she love him? The way he wanted it, the way he deserved it? Were they ready to be together? Or... had the dices long been thrown?

With a sigh, he fell back onto his pillow. He knew that he had to talk to her. He couldn't stand _normal_ anymore, not after he had gotten a glimpse of heaven. But it wasn't only about him. He had taken the leap once, and after that star-crossed night in front of the Hoover Building, he had vowed to himself to never ever push her again.

He would wait for her to be ready. At least a little bit more.

Unbeknownst to him, somewhere in another part of this town life was growing, a life he had created. Just the moon and the stars knew, and, tonight, they were only shining for this man and this woman, so separated but so linked to each other at the same time.

Then it was morning.

To be continued...


	2. The Comfort in the Night

II. The Comfort in the Night

She had told him.

It had been a crazy day followed by an even crazier night. A child had been born, a beautiful baby boy with big blue eyes.

They had roamed the streets afterwards, apprehension in her steps, calmness in his. The words had simply tumbled out of her mouth.

"I'm pregnant. You're the father."

She had watched his shell-shocked form with growing anxiety, but then the most beautiful smile ever had lit up his face; had lit up her own as well, and for the fraction of a second everything had been so easy. The sounds of the city had disappeared, history had been history.

His gaze wandering from her face to her belly and back, he had whispered,

"A baby?"

A tentative nod.

"My baby? _Our_ baby?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Bones..."

She had been in his arms one unsteady heartbeat later, and relief had weakened her knees, had watered her eyes. Sobbing silently, she had clutched him fiercely, and once more Brennan had found a safe home in the strong circle of his arms. His hand had whispered over her satiny hair, soothing her, and his own voice had been full of emotions as well.

"Booth... do you still think that having a baby is nothing but happiness?"

"Yes," he answered into her hair, pursing his lips in the hunch of a kiss.

She let go of a breath she hadn't been aware of holding and nuzzled her damp face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like everything she knew, still new somehow but intimately familiar at the same time.

"Will you... will you stand beside me?"

"Better. I will walk with you. That is, if you let me."

"Yes, please."

Letting go of each other had been hard, and she had waited for him to say something. He had just regarded her with big, shimmering eyes, though... waiting himself?

'Come home with me.'

She had wanted to say it so desperately, but her mouth had been too dry to speak. Finally, he had buried his face in his palm, rubbing his brow as if accepting some kind of fate she hadn't been aware of.

"May I... may I touch it?" he had asked carefully, his insecurity hitting her hard.

"Yes, of course," she had hurried to say, already opening the buttons of her coat.

Then his big palm had met her belly, slipping underneath her tunic-shirt after another moment of hesitation. His warmth had created tingles on her bare skin, and under the spell of the moment she had leaned forward until her head had been able to rest on his broad shoulder. It had been so intimate, so couple-y, but they weren't a couple... were they?

"You're so slender," he murmured.

"That is about to change."

"Are you afraid?"

"Yes."

"You're beautiful, you know that, right?"

"Booth..."

"Just... never forget that, Bones, please."

"Thank you."

And once again had she wished that she could ask him to come home with her. She hadn't found the strength, though, and now she was lying in her bed, alone, as always. No, not as always, she thought, as the bittersweet memories of their night together came back to comfort and taunt her.

-BONES-

She was pregnant. Bones was pregnant with his child! They were having a baby. Seeley Booth was lying in his bed, but he knew that sleep wouldn't come tonight.

His baby was growing inside of her. And he wasn't with her. Everything about that felt wrong, and he had wanted to take her home so desperately. She hadn't said it, though, and he had been too scared to ask. Too scared to hear one very rational theory about parenting a child together without being together. Too scared that she might not want him the way he wanted her.

And... the way he wanted her? It gnawed on him, consumed him. He had wanted her before, but now that she was carrying his child the longing had turned into an almost unbearable urge.

Tossing and turning, one sonorous voice vibrated through his head.

'Grow a set! Be a man, step up.'

'Really? You still think so?'

'More than ever. Come on, she's so much more than your partner. She needs you.'

'What if she still doesn't love me?'

'Yeah, but... what if she does?'

Making up his mind, he kicked the blanket aside, reaching for his cell phone on the bedside table. She answered on the second ring.

"Brennan?"

"I shouldn't have let you go home alone."

He could hear a deep, shuddering breath at the other end of the line and clasped the phone harder.

"I should have asked you to come with me," she finally admitted on a whisper, and his crazy heart skipped a beat.

"You want that?"

"Yes...

"I'll be there in ten."

Silence, then,

"I'll wait up."

-BONES-

During that time of the night there was no traffic, and he made the trip to her apartment in eight minutes. He hadn't bothered to change, and when she opened her door to his knock, she found a tousled Booth in gray sweatpants and a white shirt. She offered him a weak smile and stepped aside to let him walk in.

"You want something to drink?"

"No, just sleep. And you," he stated softly, taking in her pale blue tank top and striped pajama bottoms.

She nodded, outstretching her hand to him.

"Then come."

She slept on the right side, she always did, but tonight the space next to her wasn't occupied by pillows but by one very warm and vibrant man. He opened his arms for her, and after one brief moment of tentativeness, she accepted his offer, invading his personal space. His chest heaved under his breaths, and his warmth surrounded her completely. She could feel his kiss in her hair, tiny and shy, and she squeezed her eyes shut to reign the emotions raging inside of her.

"I'm so scared that you're only here because of the child," she confessed.

"And I'm scared that it is the only reason why you want me here," he answered.

She shook her head, her soft hair tickling his face.

"You know," she took a deep breath, "what I once said about regrets? I still mean it."

"I've always only wanted you."

His arms around her tightened, and his palm caressed the bare skin where her top had ridden up.

"Thank you, Booth. For being here, for being you."

"Always, Bones, always."

Lifting her head, she kissed his stubbly cheek, and he cupped the back of her head to hold her in place, to show her how much he appreciated this fragile sign of affection. After another sweet moment of closeness, she turned around in his arms, and he snuggled up to her from behind, covering her like a warm and solid blanket. And in the cocoon of their embrace, his hand found the smooth skin of her belly, cupping it in a gesture full of protectiveness.

"Night, Bones," he whispered, kissing her nape.

Her own hand met his on her belly, clasping it.

"Sleep tight, Booth."

Their breaths mingled as sleepiness got the best of them.

There might be pitfalls, there might be killers, there might be risks, but... not tonight. Tonight was different because they were together.

Did she love him? Something told him that she might indeed.

Was he still angry? She wasn't sure, but right now everything about him was tender and relaxed.

Would they live happily ever after? He didn't know it, and she didn't know it. But it was worth a try.

To be continued...


	3. The End of the Night

III. The End of the Night

The harbingers of daylight crept into the bedroom, tickling one man and a woman in the innocent embrace of sleep. His arms were around her, as if he was afraid that something might manifest in the darkness and tear her away from him. Her own hand was curled around his strong arm, emphasizing the image of safety he had drawn for them.

The first thing she registered before she awoke – even before his warmth or the heaviness of his body around her sunk in – was his scent. A scent that had surrounded her in dim-lit bars, interrogation rooms and big FBI vehicles. A scent which – wherever she might find it – would always mean that she was safe.

Her nose wrinkled, eyelids fluttered, and then Temperance Brennan was awake. There was a moment of fragile oblivion, as she blinked, but then everything came back with full force.

She was pregnant. She was expecting Booth's baby. Booth was lying next to her, holding her. His breath was tickling her nape.

Experimentally, she moved in his arms, turning around, and then his hold on her tightened again, pulling her close until her nose was burrowed in the crook of his neck. His thumb brushed the skin on the small of her back, and he hummed sleepily.

All she could do... was to lie perfectly still as the sensations overwhelmed her. His hair, his skin, his warmth, his breaths – he was everywhere around her, in her, with her. Was he?

Seeley Booth was dreaming. Not the bad kind of dream, no, the other one, the one where he could almost feel her in his arms. The silky texture of her hair, the womanly scent of her skin, the sweet sound of her breaths.

Through closed eyelids he could feel the daylight, a bright sensation lingering on the corner of his mind. Eventually, his brain switched on, banishing the haze of sleep... but, still, he could feel her in his arms. Then it hit him.

Pregnant. She was pregnant. She was here. No, he was here. But she was in his arms.

His thumb which had been caressing her in sleep moved intentionally now, and she held her breath, telling him without words that she was awake.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice somehow like a dream as well.

"Good morning," came her answer, and he could feel her lips against his skin, as she spoke.

Part of him still asleep, he held her tight for some more luxurious moment, reveling in the intimacy of the morning. Then his arms around her loosened, and she left her safe place on his shoulder. He had seen her like this before, once, but one more time her tousled early morning beauty stole his breath.

Stole his breath so that he couldn't say anything. Couldn't do anything but lower his lips to hers, kissing the rosiness from them, catching her surprised gasp. Without as much as a second of hesitation, she was kissing him back, though, clinging to him. Her tongue tapped his lip, demanding entrance, and he granted it willingly, sighing, as the softness of her tongue met his in the oldest dance ever.

His teeth found her bottom lip, nipping gently, and something like a suffocated whimper left her chest, as she crawled even closer into his embrace.

"Booth," she whispered, and he didn't answer because it hadn't been a question.

Her body went pliant in his arms, melting against him in a way that went a very long way down to soothe the old ache. The sun was fully risen now, illuminating their secret embrace with a bright-new light, and his hands touched her hair, her skin, her fingers... just because he could, and all the while he was kissing her and responding to her kiss... yeah, just because he could.

Her hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, short fingernails grazing over firm muscles, and he sighed, as his head dropped onto her shoulder, fell into milky-white skin so warm and tender.

"Bones," he breathed, and her nails dug into his skin, eliciting a sharp gasp from him.

They had fallen... had fallen from the high wire that had been their relationship for so long. One tentative step had been too brave or not brave enough, and now they were still falling, hoping for something – anything – to catch them.

But maybe... maybe it wasn't about being caught, maybe it was just about learning to fly. Once, in a night when he had been in a very dark place, she had written about the burden of wings. Maybe it was time to spread them, to finally use them after having been afraid of their weight for so long.

"I've never wanted you to move on," she finally confessed, and he lifted his head from her soft shoulder.

And she spread her wings.

"Hardest thing I've ever tried."

"I should have told you long ago."

Remembering her silent tears, the lost tone of her voice, he shook his head.

"You did. I should have listened."

"I shouldn't have run."

"I should have shown you the difference between going away for a while and running."

"I'm bad at... this."

"At what?" he whispered, and she took a deep breath.

"You know... you and me and... love."

"Oh, Bones... You are very good."

"Are you still angry?"

Her pale blue eyes fell into his darker ones, as if believing that one could actually find a truth in other people's eyes... and maybe she could.

"No..."

"Booth... the date we've set. Our time... has it already come?"

His hand left the dark silkiness of her hair, wandering lower until it came to a halt over her belly.

"Maybe it has always been here, but we've been too busy to realize it."

"But if I weren't pregnant..."

"But you are. There's no 'if'. We've created something. Together. This is us, Bones."

"Still, if-"

"If you weren't pregnant, I'd still want to be with you. That's all I've ever wanted, you know that, right?"

And he spread his wings. They were burned, a little bit, but stronger than he remembered them.

"Do you... do you love me?"

The world stood still around them, as he found peace and courage in the moment.

"Yeah. I always have, Bones."

Her eyelids fluttered close, as she let go of one heavy breath. It wasn't enough, though. Not yet.

"Say it, please."

"I love you. I love you. So much."

And her universe shifted and clicked together with his.

"I love you, too, Booth. I cannot explain it, but I know it to be true. It's everything you've ever told me."

A smile brightened his face, tentative at first, but then the truth sunk in, and he opened his arms anew, pulling her close.

"You love me?"

"Yes," she smiled, and he could feel it against his chest.

The alarm clock chose that moment to ring, interrupting the honesty of the morning, and he groaned in frustration.

"Noooo..."

"We have to go to work," she stated, but for once her voice lacked enthusiasm.

Outstretching her arm, she hit the button, but at the slightest tug she fell back into his embrace, quite reluctant to leave the safety of this norning. His hands captured her face, pulling her close for another kiss, the first one after he had said it, after she had said it.

She tasted like ten minutes, four weeks and six years ago. But this kiss was neither stolen nor desperate, in fact, it was a truth itself.

It was sunny and bright outside, when they let go of each other a few moments later.

Ready to face the day.

A day so similar but so different to all the other ones.

To be continued...


	4. The Change in the Night

IV. The Change in the Night

The day was exhausting and long. The bones were countless and white, the pile of papers on his table refused to shrink. It was too early to actually feel pregnant, and one very rational forensic anthropologist tried to compartmentalize, tried to banish the thought of the change in her uterus to a very distant corner of her mind. One very vulnerable woman failed to accomplish it.

What kind of mother would she be? What kind of partner? The love she felt was like an unexpected flower in the middle of barrenness. Would it be enough? Could it?

One man tried to focus on work while his mind refused to linger on anything but the woman who was linked to him through blood now. And through so much more than blood alone.

Whenever he moved his head, he could catch a whiff of her rose shampoo in his hair, a very sweet reminder of where exactly he had spent the night. Whenever he tried to turn his attention to the report lying in front of him, the letters blurred until only her signature remained. _Temperance Brennan_. A signature as elegant and strong as the woman herself.

He thought about her hair earlier this morning, disheveled after a night in his arms. He thought about her pink lips, swollen from his kisses. He thought about lines and times when they'd missed each other.

She thought about breakfast smiles and giggles which had set an end to almost awkward politeness. She thought about his handsome face bare of pain. She thought about the hollow his head had left in her second pillow. Maybe she could call it "his pillow". Would it be his pillow?

They thought about love. Both of them knew that it hadn't become true because of one shared word – no, it had always been there. Had lingered in early morning coffees and late night drinks; in running and jumping and falling for her; in changing, opening, relying on him.

They thought about a child that would be.

Around 4 pm he couldn't stand it anymore and grabbed his cell.

"Meet me for dinner?"

"Pick me up at seven."

-BONES-

Knowing her, Booth steered his black SUV straight to the lab and not to her apartment as seven o'clock was nearing. Knowing him, she was already awaiting him, ready to leave for the night.

They drove to a place they had never been before, and the subtlety wasn't even lost on her. The restaurant was nice and cozy, music was dripping like summer night's rain, and they dismissed the wine menu with one meaningful glance. The food was heartwarming and delicious, and as she told him about her day, she didn't mention her insecurities; as he told her about his, he forewent the longing.

Sometimes the words we say aren't as meaningful as the ones we skip, but he was looking at her, and she was looking at him.

She was halfway through the dessert, when he cleared his throat.

"Be with me. For real. Sleep with me, laugh with me, come home to me every night."

Her hand that was holding the spoon fell down in slow motion.

"You mean... a life together?"

"Yes. A full-fledged, messy, wonderful life full of you and me."

She gnawed her lip, and indecisiveness was written all over her face.

"Do you think we're ready? Booth... I don't think that this is something where I can risk failing."

He looked at her for one silent moment, remembering his resolution not to push her, trying to decide if this would count as pushing in the first place.

"Neither do I," he finally stated, holding her gaze... holding her gaze until she took a deep breath, focusing on the napkin in her lap.

"I don't know," she whispered, and for a brief moment her stomach revolted, as if sick from the everlasting dance with fear. "But I'm going home with you tonight, and you can come home to me tomorrow. You could leave your sleep shirt behind. I could bring a toothbrush. We don't have to decide everything right now, do we?"

Her gaze left the safety of the napkin, searching his, exhaling a relieved breath, as she found nothing but warmth.

His hand met hers on the table, covering it gently while his thumb brushed her knuckles.

"I like that. After all... it starts with one moment."

She frowned, and he added before she could speak,

"Everything does. Forever does."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't protest either, and when he guided her out of the restaurant shortly after, his warm palm was an old acquaintance on the small of her back. It's reassuring... the things that don't change.

Brennan played with the buttons of the radio until she stumbled upon one piano melody that felt like the empty street they were riding, and he threw her a quick smile.

"So... my place it is?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

Then they were back, back in the apartment where everything had ended or begun – it depends on where you're standing – and once more she faced the bed where she had found comfort only a few weeks ago. Where they had forgotten themselves and created something new. Her eyes roamed over the place she had visited so often as a friend, finding it odd and calming at the same time that her perception hadn't changed.

It was still his home. But it was a home he wanted to share with her.

Unbeknownst to her, Booth had stepped behind her, and then his strong arms closed around her waist. With a sigh, she leaned backwards, accepting his embrace. His lips fell to her neck, leaving behind a soft kiss where her skin was so tender. Tilting her head, she granted him better access, and his lips lingered on her white skin.

"I love you," he murmured. "We'll figure out the rest."

She closed her eyes against the rush of emotions, and the scientist in her tried to dissect it, tried to understand it. Gratitude was in the mix, and longing. Relief. A hunch of the old fear. But stronger than all of them was the warmth of love itself, her own love, the one she felt for him.

"I want that," she answered, finally turning around in his arms, lifting her hand, brushing non-existing strands of hair out of his strong brow.

His lips curved up in that smile she knew so well.

"I'm going to kiss you," he warned playfully, but she just laughed.

"I was hoping for it."

"Yeah? You were?"

"I was. Am."

"Why?"

His breath was as hot on her face as his husky whisper, and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

"A kiss seems to be the logical-"

He cut her off with his mouth on hers, applying gentle pressure to her rose petal lips.

"I love it when you talk squinty," he whispered between kisses.

"There isn't... such a thing as... talking squinty."

With one swift move he bent down and scooped her up in his arms, and she broke the kiss to give him a bemused grin.

"Seriously? We're two steps away from the bed."

"Humor me. It's a guy thing."

"Maybe I should take off my coat and shoes first."

With a groan his lips slanted down on hers anew, effectively silencing her, and he placed her on the mattress like a precious piece of china. His eyes were glistening, as they met hers again, and every teasing remark died on her lips. He peeled her out of her coat with infinite gentleness, crouching down next to the bed then to remove her shoes and socks.

His palm caressed the bare skin of her ankles, and while he marveled at the alabaster tone of her, the image of sand underneath her feet and the kiss of the sun crossed his mind.

'I want to give that to her,' he thought, as he removed his own jacket as well, kicking off the shoes.

She was lying on his bed, watching him, waiting for him. She was the squint, the bone lady, his partner, but tonight she was most of all a woman... his woman.

Unwilling to remain passive, her hands flew to the buttons of her blouse, undoing them, all the while encouraging him to go on. He missed the sight of her the second his head was hidden in the tunnel of his shirt, but then he was standing in front of her bare-chested.

Brennan took a deep breath, as her eyes feasted on the sight of him so sturdy, so male and so exposed in front of her. Her blouse fell open, revealing the valley of her cleavage and even more milky-white skin, and, with a long sigh, he approached her, crawling on top of her.

Stilling her hands, he replaced them with his own, resuming the task of undressing her, and, like a moth to a flame, her fingers were drawn to his body. Silk and steel. He arched into her touch, and she understood that he needed it as much as she did... being touched.

Lips found skin, licking, exploring, tasting. Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth were already intimately familiar with each other, but tonight they reconnected as lovers without the sharp taste of pain in their union.

Her legs opened to accommodate his narrow hips, and, her arms closed around his broad shoulders, she welcomed his weight on top of her. He was heavy, but he was real, and it was a burden she wanted to carry.

His hands tunneled in her silken hair, he kissed her as if life itself depended on it, and she met him with intensity that matched his own. Tongues swept over each other, gently but hungrily, and every part of him wanted to mark her as his, every part of her understood this primeval call.

A sheen of sweat was glistening on his forehead, as he finally joined them, and lost in the sensation of her warm body wrapped around him, her name broke on a whisper.

"Bones..."

There was astonishment in his gaze, sheer wonder, and, lifting her hand, she brushed the salty drops of sweat aside.

"You're beautiful," she breathed, and part of him wanted to laugh that she, this stunning woman lying beneath him, wanted to tell him something about beauty.

Everything he needed to know about it... he could find it on her face.

In one swift motion he rolled them around until she was sprawled on top of him, and a breathless laughter left her lips.

Then she moved. One of his hands cupped the firm globe of one breast, his thumb grazing the taut nub, while his other hand settled on her hip to support her movements. Her eyes turned glassy, and he noticed a change in her breath pattern. Suddenly he needed to kiss her, and with a gentle tug she landed on his chest.

His lips found hers, as he thrust into her from below, rocking her world just like she rocked his – literally and metaphorically – finally brave enough to fly with her.

"I love you."

Her words sounded almost like a whimper, but he heard them nonetheless, and something inside of him that had nothing to do with sexual release spilled over.

"Yes, Bones, yes," he chanted, pressing himself closer against her chest, closer against her lips, deeper into her body.

Then, in a moment so old but so new, her eyes snapped open, and in them he found a color he had never seen before. He forgot how to breathe, as she splintered, as she came apart around him, and then his own body demanded to follow her, and he had no strength to resist her call.

Had never had.

-BONES-

Almost seven billion people live in this world. How many of them are lucky enough to catch this glimpse of heaven that is losing yourself in the one person you truly love? How many of them ever manage to find their true soul mate, the one among seven billion?

In this night in Washington D.C., one journey ended but another one had just begun. She was lying in his arms, and he was lying in her arms, and between them, right under her heart, the result of their search was growing.

Her body was pliant in the aftermath of love, and, with her ear pressed to his chest, she could hear his accelerated heartbeat. She lifted her hand, touching his strong chest.

"I will never crush it again," she murmured languidly, and he kissed the crown of her head with a smile.

Sometimes it's insane... aiming for a different outcome over and over again. But sometimes... sometimes it's even more insane not to do it.

The End.


End file.
